


détente

by sebfish



Series: frenemies with benefits [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, M/M, Philadelphia Flyers, Pittsburgh Penguins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 17:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14383695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebfish/pseuds/sebfish
Summary: Giroux is grinning like he does when he knows it’ll piss Sid off, wild and a little bit reckless standing on Sid’s doorstep a few hours after the game.





	détente

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the fifth game of the Flyers/Pens round of the 2018 Stanley Cup Playoffs. I apparently had a few emotions about these two.
> 
> All credit for the idea goes to theladyscribe who asked "who's writing me the angry Sid/Claude post-game sex". I started writing a bit for fun, then I was like "welp, apparently I'm writing it" and then a few hours later this happened. 
> 
> Unbetaed so all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Disclaimer that this is a fictional representation of the people mentioned, no harm is meant, etc etc.

Giroux is grinning like he does when he knows it’ll piss Sid off, wild and a little bit reckless standing on Sid’s doorstep a few hours after the game. It wasn’t all on him, Sid knows, because the Flyers were playing desperate and mean, but it still smarts to see Giroux showing up like this, all cocky swagger and that fucking grin of his. They could still end the playoff series in the next game, but it pisses him off that they could’ve ended it tonight and none of the fucking bounces went their way.   

“I shouldn’t even let you in,” Sid says flatly, standing firm in the doorway like it’ll stop Giroux from doing anything he doesn’t want to.

Giroux just laughs and pushes past him, leaving Sid to trail behind.

“C’mon Croz, where’s the fun in that?” Sid shuts the door behind him, even though better sense would be to tell him to fuck off. Giroux opens his arms like he’s goading Sid into a fight and he’s still flushed from the game and a little bit damp from the shower and Sid hates him so much. It’s probably bad luck to let a Flyer into his house, even if Giroux’s back in his suit after the game and there’s not any orange in sight.

“Fuck you,” Sid bites out, still wired and running on adrenaline from the game, and it’s a piss-poor excuse for the way he crowds into Giroux’s space like he’s got something to prove. There aren’t really any excuses for Giroux showing up like this anyway, in the middle of the fucking playoffs.

Giroux just grins like he’s got Sid’s number.

“Fuck you,” Sid says again, right up in his face, and he’d get punched if this was anyone else but it’s Giroux so he just keeps grinning even as Sid pushes forward the final inch to surge against him in a clash of lips.

It’s a messy kiss because Sid’s too pissed to make it gentle and Giroux doesn’t care to, still grinning when they break for air like the cat that got the fucking cream. Sid bites against his lips and Giroux gives as good as he gets, licking into his mouth and pressing in messy and deep. He’s backed him up against the wall without meaning to and Giroux’s hard against his hip, and he wants to mess him up like this.

It’s gratifying to grind up against him, watch his eyes flutter closed as he tips his head back against the wall and groans. Sid is hard enough that he could get off like this, grinding against him through their clothes like they’re fucking teenagers messing around in Juniors. There’s a part of him that wants to wreck Giroux like this, fuck him up against the wall like this until he comes in his suit and then kick him out and make him take an Uber back to his hotel like this.

He bites a mark into the curve of Giroux’s neck, bites down almost sharp enough to draw blood and revels in the way that Giroux shivers against him. He sucks on it hard and it’s going to mark, but if Giroux didn’t want to get marked up then he shouldn’t have shown up like this.

Sid pulls back a little bit and it’s gratifying to see Giroux looking like this, rumpled and kissed and a little bit desperate, the mark of Sid’s teeth on his neck already red and Sid hates him and he wants him so much like this.

“Come on,” he says, instead of anything else he could say, wraps a hand around Giroux’s wrist and tugs as he steps back, moving in the direction of his bedroom.

 

 

 

Giroux stumbles but follows and he seems to regain his composure as he follows. He starts stripping as soon as they reach the room, before Sid has even had a chance to close the door, and then he’s back in Sid’s space, warm and naked and tugging at his clothes.

Sid lets him, lets Giroux pull him back in and pull his t-shirt over his head. He starts pushing them in the direction of the bed as Giroux slides his hands down Sid’s sweatpants to cup his ass, then pushes his sweatpants down so he can kick them off.

He shoves against Giroux enough to tip him back onto the bed, pushes him down as he kisses him again, deep and a little bit vicious. He climbs over him and lines up their dicks, grinds down and it’s so fucking good to have Giroux under him, warm and solid and hard underneath him.

“Fuck you,” he says again against Giroux’s mouth, grinding down and swallowing the noise Giroux makes against his mouth.

“Yeah,” Giroux says, sounding shaky, “I was thinking that you could.”

Sid feels a jolt of arousal at the words, grinds down again even if it’s a little too dry to be comfortable even with both of them hard and dripping. “Okay,” he says, feeling blindsided.

Giroux snorts and spreads his legs, rocking up against him. “Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t fucking want to.”

“I said okay,” Sid says, pissed. He pulls away from Giroux long enough to grab the lube out of the side drawer by his bed, squeezes some out in his palm and slicks up his fingers.

 

 

 

He doesn’t rush through opening Giroux up, even if he’s pissed, because there have to be some unspoken rules about fucking your opponent during a playoff series when you’re pissed, and he’s not that much of a dick. He fucks Giroux with his fingers until he’s arching up into it, panting and groaning and kicking at his side with his heels.

“Fucking get on with it,” Giroux says.

“Okay,” Sid says, and pulls out his fingers. He uses the rest of the lube on his hand to slick up his dick, and then he’s pushing into Giroux.

Giroux is warm and tight around as he sinks in, and there’s a part of him that’s pissed enough that he sinks in a little faster than he should and pulls back out as soon as he gets deep, starting up a quick sharp rhythm before Giroux’s had time to adjust.

Giroux curses at him for that but he’s rocking up into Sid’s thrusts anyway, groaning like it’s doing something for him.

Sid keeps fucking him into like that, speeding up until it’s almost brutal, and he’s going too hard to do any more than pant against Giroux’s mouth and it’s a bad angle for kissing besides, but it’s so fucking good that it doesn’t matter because he’s not going to last very long at all.

He feels Giroux’s knuckles brush against his stomach as he gets himself off in counterpoint to Sid’s thrusts, and it feels like no time at all before Giroux stiffens under him and goes tight around his dick, groaning long and loud as he comes, and he feels the warm splash of come against his stomach.

He goes for it then, chasing the feeling building deep in his spine, fucking in deep and fast even though Giroux’s making noises now like it’s almost too much. He thrusts in a few more times before he shoves in deep and stills, feeling almost overwhelmed as his orgasm washes over him and he empties inside Giroux. He lets himself drop on top of Giroux as he rocks a few more times as he comes down from it, twitchy with aftershocks.

 

 

 

Giroux’s hand is on his hip, stroking softly, and it’s almost annoying but it’s not. Sid pulls back enough to slip out of him, makes himself get up and clean himself off in the bathroom even though the lassitude of a good orgasm is quickly settling into bone deep exhaustion from the game. He wets a spare towel and brings it out with him, and Giroux makes a questioning noise when he wipes him down with it, even if he doesn’t make any effort to move.

Sid puts the towel back and brushes his teeth, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looks like he feels, exhausted and ragged even though this is only the first series. He’s got beard burn from Giroux and it would be fucking obvious to anyone what he’d been up to if they looked. He can’t find it in himself to care, though, and passes Giroux in silence when he passes Sid into the bathroom.

He’s tucked into bed, checking the texts on his phone when Giroux slides into bed next to him. They’re both still naked and it could be any night Giroux had stayed over if it wasn’t for the giant specter of playoffs between them.

He plugs his phone in and sets it on the bedside table. He’s still pissed about the game, but it’s softer now, replaced with the exhaustion of a good game and a good fuck.

“Do you need to head back?” he asks softly. Giroux’s got his phone out, fished out from the pile of clothes on the floor, but he sets it on the other bedside table.

“I’ve got permission,” he says and doesn’t elaborate, instead burrowing down into the cover and pulling at Sid to tug him closer so he can sprawl over him like a large ginger octopus.

“Okay,” Sid says, and yawns despite himself. Giroux is warm and solid and grounding, and even if he’s pissed about the series it’s not the end of everything.

Giroux makes a noise in response, already half-asleep, and Sid makes sure to set his alarm before he clicks off the light. He burrows down into the warm circle of Giroux’s arms.  

“Okay,” Sid says, again, softly, and lets himself drift off to sleep.


End file.
